


trying to fight gravity

by Emilys_List



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-06
Updated: 2004-04-06
Packaged: 2019-05-15 19:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14796621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emilys_List/pseuds/Emilys_List
Summary: cannoli, wonderland, lots of sex -- a weekend in boston prompts some changes.





	trying to fight gravity

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**trying to fight gravity**

**by:** emily’s list

**Pairing(s):** josh/donna  
**Category(s):** romance. angst.  
**Rating:** ADULT  
**Disclaimer:** the characters of the west wing do not belong to me. isabella, kate, patrick, patricia and others do belong to me; although, i’m sure they prefer to belong to themselves. oh, and just to cover all the bases... it may come as a shock, but i do not own harry potter, either :)  
**Summary:** cannoli, wonderland, lots of sex -- a weekend in boston prompts some changes.  
**Spoiler:** vague references to Noel and ITSOTG  
**Author's Note:** musical details are at the end. feedback is graciously appreciated 

"Donna, that was my diet coke." 

"Yes it was, and I drank it all." 

"You stole my beverage, and you have no remorse. I may be forced to start whining." 

Without looking up, I reach down and pull out a can of diet coke from my bag. I hand it to him as I reread the invitation in front of me. 

"What is that? Donna?" He peers over to where I’m sitting on the other side of the desk. "No more parties. They’ll just have to do without my winsome personality." 

I look up, a thousand wise-ass remarks biting at my tongue. Instead I reply, "It’s not for you. My sister is getting married." 

His forehead crinkles. "Good. What’s with the sadness?" 

I shake my head; it’s not sadness. The invitation is beautiful. My sister has impeccable taste. "I’m not sad. I’m happy for her." 

He stares at me, appraising my mood. He assesses it as satisfactory, and begins flipping through a folder. It’s scary that I can itemize Josh’s brain processes. 

I open up the diet coke can and start drinking from it. 

"I’m going to be severely dehydrated in a minute," he says. "Seriously, what’s with the moping?" 

"Will you come with me to the wedding?" Where did that come from? 

Josh nods. "Yeah. Of course." He pauses. "Donna... you okay?" 

I turn the invitation over, and sigh. "She didn’t tell me about this." I put the invitation away, and take a long sip of diet coke. "You’re meeting with the House Minority Leader at 3:45, then with Congresswoman Reeseman at 6:15. And then you’re having dinner--" 

"You’re upset." It’s almost a question when he asks me, but not quite. 

"Josh, can we get through the schedule? Dinner at 8:30 with--" 

"Now you sound upset with me." 

"Josh, I am not upset and I don’t want to talk about this now. Okay?" I’m so frustrated right now I cannot even finish my thought. "Where was I? Okay. Dinner. Dinner at 8:30." I close the datebook, and toss it on his desk. "Are we finished?" 

He looks at me, perplexed. "Donna, what just happened?" 

I shake my head. "You have a 3:45 with the Minority Leader," I remind him. 

"Yeah, and it’s 2:30. We can talk. I may become confused or frustrated at some point, but I’ll let you know." 

I sink down in the chair. He’s starting to look worried, and I’m not interested in worrying him; it takes too much energy to do that. "It’s fine," I say. "She was moving to Boston, and she’s been busy -- they’ve been busy. I didn’t know they were headed towards marriage. I should have seen this coming. It’s just a surprise. It’s fine." 

"You should call her." 

I nod. "I will. Later." I get up and gather my stuff. 

"Where are you going?" he asks. 

"To my desk. I have to... I don’t have anything to do, actually." I need to do something right now to occupy my mind. 

"Get me an hour with Wyler tomorrow." 

I finish the diet coke as Josh glares at me. "Wyler hates you, Josh. This may be... impossible." I walk outside the office towards my desk. 

"Hey, Donna?" He does that thing where he leans in the doorway with his forearms pressed against the door frame, one leg straight and one leg crossed. He looks incredibly arrogant. And quite sexy, although that’s another matter completely. 

"Sweet talk him, okay? Tell his assistant I’ve suddenly become extremely docile." 

"Josh, no one will ever believe that." 

"Right. Hey. When’s the wedding?" 

I take the invitation out of my bag. I look it over one last time. "May 29th," I respond. For the first time in an hour, I smile. "You know, Josh, you can’t get out of this." 

He looks confused. "I didn’t say that I--" 

I hold up his date book. "You’re not busy on the 29th. I checked." 

"Donna--" 

"Because I assist. It’s what I do." 

"Donna." 

"And coerce you into formal events that you don’t want to go to." 

He walks towards me. "Did I say I didn’t want to go?" Josh stands in front of me, looking into my eyes. He wordlessly takes my bag and removes the invitation. "I want to meet your sister. And your parents. And all the other lactose loving..." He stops. 

"Now, Donna, when it says Isabella Moss and Katherine Ehrlich... Katherine’s a guy’s name, right?" 

++++++ 

"Are you going to talk to me? Or are you going to keep humming angry Alanis Morissette songs?" 

I slam the file cabinet shut. "I’m not humming anything." 

"Yeah, okay. Listen, I’m going with you. All I said was, it may not present the best image." 

I stare at the cabinet, refusing to turn around and look at him. I shut my eyes. "I have work to do." 

"Okay. So do it." He comes up next to me, and leans into my personal space. Which is fine, he’s always doing that. Currently, it feels obnoxious. "You’re not really working. You’re just staring at the file cabinet." 

"There’s a lot of papers in here that I should find. Official papers. I have a job to do." 

He leans back against the cabinet with his arms crossed. "The ruling goes into effect a week before the wedding. And when the Deputy Chief of Staff shows up at a gay wedding--" 

"As my date, you egomaniac! And, what, are you against same-sex marriages? You know, this administration claims to care about gay and lesbian Americans, but when it really comes down to it--" 

"Donna, all I said was, I have some reservations. I’m still going, I just want to run it past Leo." 

I look at him, and begin speaking slowly. "You want to run it past Leo." 

His eyes dart around, not completely staying on me. "This isn’t the average wedding at the Four Seasons. It’s controversial." 

"It’s my sister," I say quietly. 

He lays his hand on my shoulder. I’m afraid he’s going to say something apologetic and compassionate, and then I won’t be able to stay angry. "I know." 

Well, no danger of compassion. 

"Don’t be angry with me," he says softly, dropping his hand. "Let’s pretend you spent all afternoon furious, and then you got over it when I promised I would go with you." 

"I’m not furious--" 

He cuts me off, "Let’s pretend that on occasion you become furious with me. As difficult as that may be to imagine." 

He’s speaking softly and gently to me, his voice almost a whisper. And he has this small smile on his face... 

Who the hell is this man? 

"So you’re coming with me to the wedding?" I ask brusquely. 

Josh leans back, and his eyes sweep down my body to the floor. "Of course." 

"And you’re not talking to Leo." 

He looks over my shoulder, as if he suddenly saw someone familiar. "No. Decided it wasn’t necessary." 

"You... decided that in the last minute?" 

"Yeah. I gotta go," he says, and starts to walk away. "Call Wyler." 

"Josh." I turn and we’re facing each other. His face is curiously blank. "Thanks." He nods, and takes off. I watch him walk away, and sit down at my desk. The folders in my hand pertain to nothing of immediate importance, but I lay them on my desk and start to flip through them anyway. 

++++++ 

"Hey. Leo. Do you have a minute?" 

He doesn’t look up, but nods and gestures for me to come in. "You’re meeting with the House Minority?" 

I walk in slowly, standing behind one of the chairs. "Yeah." 

"You gonna take care of the thing?" 

"Yeah, I am. Listen. I just need to... I want to run something past you." 

Leo looks up, his face strained. "What is it, Josh?" he asks impatiently. 

"Donna’s sister is getting married, and I’m not sure if I should go with her." 

"Josh," Leo responds quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand, "I’m not your social director. I don’t care what you do." 

"Thanks... Leo. The reason I’m concerned... I told Donna I wasn’t going to talk to you, but then I realized that I recognized the name of Isabella’s fiancee." 

Leo makes a face. "Isabella and Donnatella? What is wrong with these people?" 

"A lot, Leo, but that’s not the point right now. Katherine Ehrlich." 

"She’s marrying a woman?" Leo asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"They live in Massachusetts, it was an initial concern, but now I’m over it. The point is that--" 

"Ron Ehrlich’s daughter," Leo says, the name sinking in. 

"Is this the kind of thing we need to be talking about with CJ?" 

"Yeah." He looks off into the distance. "Damn. How long have you known about this?" 

"Donna just told me." 

Leo turns to me, and shakes his head. "This isn’t a huge issue. Take care of it, okay?" 

"How exactly do I-- nevermind, I’ll take care of it." 

Leo looks back down to his work. "Thanks." 

I walk out slowly, giving one final glance at Leo. 

++++++ 

He walks into his office, amused to see me sitting at his desk. 

I, however, am not amused. 

"Donna. Hey. You know, that’s my desk. Just a little fact for you." 

I smile. "Remember our little pretend scenario about me being furious?" I stop smiling. "There’s no need for pretending to continue." 

"What are you ta--" 

"Margaret just called to let me know you were on your way back. She overheard what you were saying, and she wishes my sister and her life partner the best of luck. ‘Decided it wasn’t necessary’ to talk to Leo. That’s exactly what you said to me." 

"Her father is the Chairman of the Federal Reserve! This is not just some thing. We didn’t know, and CJ is going to get questions and no one told us!" 

"People get married every day! Isabella--" 

"Whose sister works in the White House!" 

"Is marrying the woman she loves--" 

"Whose father is the Fed. Chair. And, yes, people get married every day, and yes, this would be some fairy tale thing in any other case, except it’s not and don’t make me say why." He stands there uncomfortably. "I’ll call Ehrlich’s people, they’ll issue a statement, and--" 

"It’s an invasion of privacy," I say, cutting him off. 

"They’re getting married in a huge church in Boston! This isn’t some low profile thing, Donna. This is a very public, ‘I’m here, I’m qu--’" 

"Is this going to turn into a situation where you tell me I can’t go?" 

"No. That’s not what I’m saying. This situation, this wedding, is going to make a lot of Americans unhappy, and since no one told us anything, we need to smooth this over--" 

"There’s nothing to smooth over, nothing happened and nothing is going to happen. And I told you about this. I didn’t have to, but--" 

"You invited me to a wedding," he spits out, his eyes stationary on his bookshelf. 

"Yeah," I reply flatly, getting out of his chair. "I’m uninviting you." I stalk off to my desk. 

"You can’t take it back. This isn’t third grade." 

"Don’t you have a country to run?" I fume. I start typing. Violently. 

Josh comes and sits on my desk. "I’m going to take care of it, don’t worry." 

"Please get off my desk and don’t take care of anything." 

"Donna, what is--" 

I stop typing and look up at him. "I chose to work for you. And you and I choose to come to a very public job, every day. My sister is getting married, and she deserves privacy or discretion or whatever she wants. And now you’re going to launch some investigation about my sister’s relationship--" 

He stops me. "She is choosing to marry Katherine Ehrlich, whose father has chosen a very public job. And if I have to take care of something, I have to do it. This administration--" 

"This is a matter for two women who you don’t know and they can take care of it however they want," I say, my voice approaching a yell. 

"What do you want me to do?" 

"Nothing." 

He stands up. "I’m going to call Ron Ehrlich’s spokesman, and then he will take care of it, and then you and I are going to a wedding." 

I return stiffly to my computer. "I uninvited you." 

He bends, and speaks into my ear. "I have to do my job. It’s personal, I get that. But you knew what I’d have to do before you even told me." 

"No. I didn’t." 

Josh straightens up, and pushes my swivel chair so I’m facing him. He puts his hands on the arms of my chair, and leans in. "This isn’t a problem to me. I’m happy for two people who can get through all the impossibilities and figure out a way to make it work." 

I feel so frustrated, yet for some reason, I smile. "That’s so sweet and romantic. How is it that some girl hasn’t swooped you up?" 

"Ha. When is the wedding again?" 

"May 29th." 

++++++ 

May 28, 2004 

"Are you sure you have gum?" he asks me, possibly for the ninth time in an hour. 

We’re standing in line, waiting to go through airport security. This has made Josh grumpy, and therefore, vexatious. "If we take off, and I’m not chewing something or I don’t have something in my mouth--" 

I flip through our tickets. "I have something you can put in your mouth," I mutter. I stop looking at the tickets. "That wasn’t sexual in nature. It was meant to sound violent. I was threatening you." 

"Yeah, okay. Now, if I had said, ‘I have something you can put in your mouth,’ you would have slapped me." 

We move up to the security check. "Well, you’d deserve it. And I have gum of all shapes and flavors, so stop asking me." I remove my jacket and heels as I am lightly searched. I glance at Josh next to me, who is receiving the same treatment. 

"That thing about the shapes and flavors? I think that was sexual in nature," he tells me. 

Josh and I move through security towards our gate. "You know what the problem is?" 

"That you’re threatening me in an airport and you made it through security?" 

"The problem is the hypersexualization of this society," I reply. "I was talking about gum. I was mocking you, and you took that to mean... I don’t even know what you were saying, it didn’t make any sense." 

"Donna, I was kidding. We do that. That little verbal sparring thing. It doesn’t have to make sense. Since when are you bothered by this?" 

I rummage through my bag. "I may have read an article," I admit. I locate my cell phone, and check for messages. 

"You read an article, and suddenly I’m sexually harassing you?" 

"It was just an observation," I say, distracted. On the phone, I listen to my mother’s message. 

Josh stares at me as we near the gate. "Who’s that?" 

I shut my phone. "My mother. With instructions. You and I are not to share a bedroom--" 

"Do we usually do that?" he asks, then quickly adds sarcastically, "Oh, I’m sorry, Donna, do you feel that comment is inappropriate?" 

"I don’t say this often, but fuck you. We are not to share a bedroom, we have to be at the rehearsal dinner on schedule, and I must act dignified at all times." 

Josh is silent for a moment as he bites his lower lip. "So basically, your mother thinks that you and I have a lot of sex, and that we’re constantly late, and... that you are undignified and disorderly." He pauses. "I guess that’s you in nutshell." 

We sit down in the waiting area. I sigh. "She called me one night at 3 AM, I forget why." I stare out the windows in front of me. I continue, "You picked up, and I didn’t think anything of it until she mentioned it later. And then we discussed it at great length. It was... about as embarrassing as it sounds." 

"What did she say to you? And why was I picking up your phone at 3 AM?" He seems so curious about this topic, as he drops his arm on the back of the chair and leans in towards me. 

"Sometimes you’re at my apartment late," I remind him, my voice strained. There’s no way in hell that we’re going to get into this now. "You answered the phone," I continue, "forever implanting the idea in the mother’s mind that you and I are sleeping together." 

++++++ 

I say nothing. I know she doesn’t want to talk about this. So I nod, and attempt to continue this conversation. "So what about the rest of your mother’s instructions?" 

She smiles. "Why are you so curious?" 

I shrug. I don’t usually let myself take the time to listen to her, and she usually doesn’t coherently stick to one topic. It’s a nice change of pace for both of us. "I want to know the reasons behind the instructions." 

"I wasn’t always as punctual. That’s something that I’ve had to acquire to make up for your tardiness. And the dignified thing is a joke." 

"Why--" 

"My mother... finds what I do to be undignified." 

... nothing, I have no idea what she’s talking about. "Donna, I don’t--" 

"My mother expected me to, well, graduate. And go to graduate school, and travel, and date French men." 

"I’m confused... French men?" 

"She wanted me to accomplish something, and to live life to the fullest--" 

I cut her off. "She considers working at the White House to be undignified?" 

Donna squirms in her seat. "You think they would’ve hooked the plane up to the jetway by now," she mumbles, suddenly fascinated with her boarding pass. 

"Does your mother despise me in some way?" 

She looks up, but not at me. Nervously, she says, "What? No. No. I never said that." 

I sit back in my chair, and cross my arms. "Yeah, that’s great, Donna. I’m real psyched for this thing now." 

++++++ 

I sigh. "Josh. It’s not... My mom loves that I work in the White House. She was so proud when I left... him. But in the end, I made this huge gesture -- and I’m an assistant. To a man." 

"I can’t help being a man." 

"Yes I am aware of this. She just feels that she raised me to be more than a secretary--" 

He turns his head towards me, squinting. "Does she have any idea what you do?" 

"She knows, but... it really doesn’t matter. I like what I do, Josh." I touch his knee gently, as a reassuring gesture. 

He looks down at my hand, and I realize that we’re both staring at my hand on his knee. 

I lift my hand. "Sorry," I say quietly. I don’t say anything for a minute. I just look around. 

"Are you doing what your mother wants you to do?" I ask Josh. 

He rubs one hand over his face. He looks tired. "Yes. I think so. Why, do you have some information that I don’t?" 

I shake my head. "Just wondering. As long as I’m disappointing my mother, I was looking for company." 

"My mother’s proud of me. But I think she’d rather have me working in a less visible job." He stops speaking for a moment, absently touching a button on his dress shirt that sits above his scar. "She probably wishes I was in private practice in Connecticut with a wife and two kids." He pauses, and a smile twitches on his lips. "Would you let your mother down if you were keeping me company on that one?" 

"If you’re asking me to marry you and birth your children, you’re going to have to let me think about that one, Prince Charming." I can’t meet his eyes. 

"So you’re disappointing to your mother? I find that hard to believe." He changed the subject. Interesting. 

"She wants the best for me." 

"What exactly would that be?" he asks. 

"You know what, I’m done talking about my mother." 

"You can’t just end a conversation." 

"Josh," I reply, "I can do whatever I want right now." 

"U.S. Airways Shuttle, Flight #2042 to Logan International Airport. Now boarding." 

I gather up my coat and bag. 

"You cannot do whatever you want. You’re locked in for an entire of weekend of smiling and supporting your sister," he counters, following me to the jetway entrance. 

I hand the flight attendant our tickets, and we walk down the jetway. As we walk, I’m beginning to feel sensations of being trapped. "So maybe I can’t do what I want," I admit. The walls of the jetway seem to be closing in. "I can, however, get drunk on the plane." 

++++++ 

Shuttle flights are extremely short. There is no way to get any actual work done, so I’m just jotting notes down for my Monday meeting with Senator Choate. It is important to note that I am also watching Donna read the fifth Harry Potter book. She’s so engrossed in it she doesn’t notice me watching her. 

She flips pages, and her face betrays her every emotion -- she’s very involved in this book. 

"You know," I say quietly, dipping my head so it nears her face, "that book is for kids." 

"Leave me alone," she mumbles. "They’re in Hogsmeade." 

I have no idea what that means. And I’m feeling slightly ignored so... 

"Ow! Josh! What the hell was that?" 

I shrug. "I was just trying to get your attention." 

She closes her book slowly, laying it on her lap. She folds her hands, and brings them to rest on the book. "You pinched my arm rather hard. So now you have my complete attention." She looks to me, but I have nothing to say to her. "Jackass," she mutters, and opens up her book. 

I lean over and slowly shut the book. 

"This game? Not amusing. What do you want?" she asks me, quite annoyed. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Yes," she responds, exasperated. 

"Well," I elaborate, "more importantly, can you explain the dynamics of your family to me? We have an hour until we land." 

She stares at me. "If I hit you with 870 pages, you will bruise." 

"Relax. I just want to hear about Isabella. And how your mother despises me." 

She looks at me suspiciously. "Really?" 

"Yes." Before I meet these people, I need to know something about them so I don’t come off like a total idiot. If I’m here filling the space of Donna’s significant other, I need to be informed. Maybe I am her significant other. Am I more than that? I know that she and I... crap, she started talking and I wasn’t listening. 

"...and she was so calm. She said, ‘Donna, I like girls. And that’s that.’ I just sat there speechless, and helpless, and-- it was sort of tough. But then I met her girlfriend Liz -- well her ex-girlfriend now -- anyway, it just made sense. I’ve been supportive of her ever since." She sits back in her seat, and she has this frustrated half-smile on her face that has come from years of trying to figure her sister out. 

"So it was that easy?" 

"No, it wasn’t that easy. It took a bit of therapy, and long talks... walking in on her during sex." 

I’m confused. "That was helpful?" 

"No, I wound say that it set me back," she replies thoughtfully. "Izzie and Liz--" 

"That’s confusing. Like a tongue twister," I interrupt. 

"A tongue twister is what I walked in on." 

"I can’t believe you just said that. Even I didn’t even go there." Not that I didn’t go there in my mind. 

"Excuse me," a voice interrupts my thoughts. A pretty boy flight attendant is leaning over Donna. "Can I get you something to drink, miss?" He’s staring at her and smiling. 

"Hi," she says, returning his smile. 

Ew. 

"I’d like a bloody mary," she says, keeping her smile focused on the flight attendant. 

Oh this is fucking gross. 

He mixes her drink efficiently, and hands it to her. I watch him; I know what he’s doing as he lets his hand brush against hers. I know what he’s doing because it’s something I’ve done to her before. 

"And for you sir?" I get no smile. 

"Yeah, I’ll have--" 

"Oh, he’s not having anything," Donna responds, quickly finishing off her drink. "I will have another, but he is having nothing. How long have you been working here?" 

"I am drinking. I will have a vodka tonic." 

She waves at me. "You’ll be drunk in ten minutes, and I’m in no mood to take care of you." She grins at the attendant. "Are you from Washington?" 

Thankfully, he is politely ignoring her, and he hands me my drink, which I drink while staring at her. 

"Have a good day, miss," he says as he winks at her. Winks. Who the hell is this guy? 

He goes on his merry little way and asks the people in front of us what they want to drink, and her eyes focus on his ass. 

Now, to be clear, I am not looking at his ass. I am watching Donna, whose eyes are glued on this guy’s ass. 

"Enjoying yourself?" 

She nods, and leans her head back. Her eyes close, and I watch the half-smile that develops on her face. "Feeling a little competition, are we?" She doesn’t open her eyes. 

"Hey, you want to ogle a stewardess, that’s your business." 

"See what you did there? That was funny, Josh. Mocking another man because he was flirting with me. It’s cute." 

"He wasn’t flirting with you. I flirt with you. I know what it’s like to flirt with you." 

She opens her eyes slowly, and turns toward me. "What did you say?" 

++++++ 

It started on Christmas Eve. 

It was unexpected. 

He was in a dark place, and he wouldn’t speak to me during the entire time in the hospital. We waited together in silence, and I held his hand as a doctor examined the other. 

We went home to my apartment, and I took him to bed. 

It was quiet at first, and gentle. I rubbed his back as I kissed him, wishing all of his demons away. 

But it became fierce, angry sex as he pounded into me, his flesh hot to my touch. When he climaxed, I could feel his scalding tears on my shoulder. 

He curled into me and went to sleep, his naked body molding to my side. His arm draped across my stomach, his breath constant and warm on my neck. I didn’t sleep at all. If I did, I would have dreamed of blood and gunfire. 

I pretended to be asleep when he woke in the early morning light. He stared at me for a long time, his gaze hot on my skin. He continuously touched me, making sure that I was really there. 

Eventually, he got up and dressed. He kissed my forehead, and left. 

It has become what we do. 

There will be nights when I need him, or he needs me. One of us will follow the other home. 

It isn’t lovemaking. It is comfort and it is necessary. I gave him my body the first time because I didn’t know what to say or how to fix it. 

There have been nights in our apartments or hotels when we will be together, our bodies connected and our minds purposely shut off. 

We crave what we can give each other. And I’m craving him now. 

++++++ 

She’s become quiet. It’s not out of the ordinary for that to happen, but it’s sort of freaking me out. 

We are stuck in horrendous Boston traffic. The cab driver has been muttering a stream of profanities as we inch through on Storrow Drive. 

"So what are we doing tonight?" 

She shakes her head, and looks at the window onto the Charles. 

"The rehearsal dinner is," I check my watch, "okay, now, but after that. What do you want to do?" 

She shakes her head again. And she lays her head on my shoulder. 

"We should go out. We’ll go somewhere," I tell her nervously. Besides campaigning, I haven’t been here in ages. I may be too old to go out in Boston. "We’ll find a jazz club and we’ll drink too much and you’ll talk too much. How does that sound?" 

Her cellphone rings. "Hello," she says weakly. 

++++++ 

"Where the fuck are you?" 

I sigh. "Isabella, I cannot control the traffic in this city." 

"Yeah, thanks, Donna. I don’t really appreciate this right now. I DO NOT HAVE TIME TO BE CALLING YOU. I am going to be married in, like, twenty hours, and you’re stuck in traffic... and there’s nothing I can do about it, so why am I yelling at you? The pastor is late, too. How are you doing?" 

"Good," I manage. 

"Is Josh there?" 

My head is resting against his shoulder. His warm, muscular shoulder. "Yes, he is." 

"Are you having sex in the cab?" 

"What an interesting question." 

Her voice is playful. "You should really make the best out of the situation. Lemonade from lemons and all that crap." 

I touch his arm gently, softly. "You should be minding your own damn business and getting ready for a wedding. I’ll see you when we get there, Izzie." I hang up on her. 

"I heard what she said," Josh tells me. 

"That’s nice," I reply, moving his arm so it falls around my shoulder. His hand slides up and down my upper arm, while my hand falls to his upper thigh. 

He starts, "As much as I’d like take her advice, I--" 

I shake my head, no. "Don’t talk." 

My phone rings again. I check to see who is calling: MOM, according to the screen of my cellphone. 

"Hi," I say, exhausted. We’ve been in heavy traffic for an hour, I’m feeling drained and the last thing I need is a lecture on punctuality from my mother. 

"Donnatella, where are you?" she asks sweetly. She sounds concerned, but I know better. 

"In the middle of traffic," I tell her, as my hand grazes Josh’s inner thigh. "So obviously I’m trying to be late." 

"I’m just making sure you’re okay. Is Josh with you?" 

"What I find truly amazing is that Izzie is standing right next to you, so you know perfectly well that I am in traffic, and that Josh is here with me." I move my hand up his thigh just a bit. He’s not looking at me, but I can tell he’s responding to me nonetheless. "I will be there when the gods of traffic are done torturing me." 

"Donna." 

"Yes, Mom." 

"Your dad wants to have a word with you when you get here." 

Suddenly, I feel incredibly weighed down. "Tell him that sounds fine, but we’re going to be awhile. We still need to check in at the hotel." 

"Sure, sweetie. We’ll see you when you get here." I close my phone. 

"Josh," I say softly. 

"Yes." 

"Is it possible to put myself up for adoption?" 

++++++ 

I’m not sure how it happened. We left the hospital, and somehow it was logical for us to both go back to her apartment. 

I’m not sure how we ended up undressed in her bed, either. She was kissing me, and her mouth was so warm and soothing. 

And then I was inside of her, and I was stroking her, touching her. 

I have never felt so complete before. But that is nothing that I could say to her. 

When I woke up, she was still sleeping. I laid on my side and stared at her. Amazed. I got up eventually, I’m not sure when. I dressed quietly, and left. 

I didn’t want to wake her up. 

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had done that. If we had only spoken about what happened. 

Instead, we practice these dual lives. We work sixteen hour days and eat bad takeout and flirt with each other. 

And occasionally, we sleep together. And we are silent in bed, and we don’t talk about this part of who we are. 

We reach out to each other when we need comfort. Lately, I’ve been feeling like I need more. 

But that is nothing that I could say to her. 

++++++ 

My hotel room is freezing, which is a nice change from the sweltering Boston heatwave. I’m laying on the bed, feeling cool rushes of air all over my body. 

Which is nice. I sort of need this cool down after what Donna was doing in the cab. I sit up and flip CNN on. These botoxed anchors are reporting on the scandalous Ehrlich/Moss wedding. I flip open my cell phone. 

"CJ Cregg." 

"I thought you took care of this." 

"Hello, Sunshine. How is Boston?" 

I get up from bed, and start pacing. "I promised that I would take care of this." 

"Ah yes, well, YOU did nothing. I took care of this." 

"But you didn’t! They’re doing a thing on CNN!" 

"Joshua, settle down. It’s just a story, they think they’re being clever. They’re not going to show up at the church." 

"We don’t need this right now," I remind her. 

"How is Donna?" 

"CJ, will you deal with this?" 

She sighs. "You know what’s interesting? This isn’t a priority! You’re much more worried than anyone else is. I’ve only gotten one question and it was about Katherine Ehrlich’s dress, which is, by the way, a lovely Caroline Herrera. If I get another question--" 

"Don’t say anything." 

"It’s getting some attention, but it’s nothing to worry about." 

"Donna doesn’t want--" 

"Oh, okay. So this is about Donna." 

I bite my lip. "No. This is about the... Federal Reserve." 

"There’s no need for bullshit, it’s too late for that. I think you’re being very sweet. Take her out to dinner. See you Monday." 

"CJ--" 

"Have a good weekend, mi amor." She hangs up on me, and I can hear her laughing as she does so. I turn my attention back to CNN. They’re still talking about the wedding when I hear a knock at my door. 

I drag myself off the bed to open the door. 

She doesn’t say anything as she brushes past me. 

All of a sudden I’m feeling very warm again. 

I close the door, and I lean up against it. I watch her take off her t-shirt and unzip her skirt. She lets the skirt fall to the floor. Black lace underwear. Hmm. She motions to me, her face expressionless. I walk towards her slowly, taking in her creamy skin and the contrast of black lace that covers her breasts and hips. She is impatient with the speed I am going, so she meets me in the middle of the room. And she kisses me. 

I put my arms around her, savoring the feel of her skin -- cold from the air conditioning, but still smooth. I run my hands over her back. She is still impatient. I put my hands to her breasts, her nipples hard from the cold air. She bites my lip. Not hard, but enough for me to take notice. I look into her face as I feel her reach for my zipper. 

We begin to kiss again as she pulls my zipper down. Suddenly, her warm hands leave my crotch. She unbuttons my shirt, as we struggle to remove it. She takes off my undershirt in one swift motion, and drags me to the bed. 

Somehow, and I have no idea how she does it, she removes my pants and boxers as we walk towards the bed. 

++++++ 

I pull him on top of me, his body still warm from the humid weather. His hands find the clasp of my bra, slowly undoing it while delicately kissing my collarbone. 

No, this will not do. 

I pull my underwear off quickly, and take his cock in my hand to grab his attention. So to speak. 

I scramble further onto the bed, and tilt my hips up, waiting for him to penetrate me. 

He smiles to himself, and starts kissing the insides of my thighs. His hands part my thighs gently, hesitantly, as if this isn’t the twentieth time he’s done this. His tongue begins to create friction, his thumb on my clit. 

I come easily. He knows exactly what I like. 

I pull his face up to mine. I don’t say anything, but he knows what I want. He enters me slowly. I feel him, inch by inch, stretching my inner muscles. He pushes slowly, and pulls out. This tentative movement lasts for a few minutes until he begins thrusting. I feel like I’m on fire. He’s there and he’s all consuming... 

I squeeze my muscles around him and he comes, burying his neck in my face. He applies his lips to my neck so he won’t scream. 

He did that once, and I did not appreciate that. This thing we do relies on silence. 

Josh rolls off of me, and gets under the covers. He tries to pull me with him, but I get up and move to the bathroom. I close the door, and look at myself in the mirror. 

I don’t look thirty years old. 

I steal the robe that’s hanging on a hook, and tie the sash securely around my waist. I stand in the bathroom for a moment. I can’t go out and look at him quite yet. I didn’t take off my watch -- it’s about an hour into the rehearsal dinner. 

Shit. 

I turn off the lights, and give myself a moment. When I open the door, he is still laying in bed, his eyes trying to reach mine. I move quickly through the room, gathering my clothes. I can feel him looking at me, even when my back is turned. 

I walk to the door. "You stole my robe," he says. 

I don’t turn around. "We’re late, get dressed," I tell him. 

++++++ 

It’s extremely convenient to get to the rehearsal dinner. We walk out of our rooms, take the elevator down, and head into the restaurant. 

It’s not often that I do this, but I thank God that my sister has expensive, Four Seasons taste. 

I look to Josh, who is fidgeting with his tie. I stand in front of him, and I adjust the knot. He looks into my eyes as I finish. "Thank you, Donna." 

I look away. "I need to find Izzie." I scan the crowd, and I see more people from Washington than I was expecting. Suddenly, I see my sister. She looks radiant. 

"Donnatella, where have you been?" 

I whirl around and smile at the voice. "Hi, Mom." She holds out her arms, and I embrace her. When I was younger, she was curvy and soft. Old age is starting to set in, and she feels thinner and brittle -- less mom-like. 

I pull away to look at her. Her hair has turned completely gray since the last time I saw her. She wears it past her shoulders, a nod to her hippie days. I put my arm around her. 

"Josh Lyman, Patricia Russo." He shakes her hand, smiling, while my mother watches him closely. 

"Russo," he says, and I immediately feel control slipping from me. "I didn’t know you kept your maiden name. That’s interesting." 

She gives him a forced smile. "Too liberated?" 

He looks to me, panicked. "No, that’s not what I meant... sorry, I, uh... help." My mother gives him a curious look. 

Perhaps she is not the most warm individual when one first meets her. 

"Josh, is that okay, to call you Josh? I assume Mr. Lyman is out of the question because you know my daughter... very well. Of course, she is in a subordinate position, but she has told me that you respect her -- most of the time. She has assured me that you have a close but professional working relationship. So. Josh is fine?" 

++++++ 

I don’t know what just happened. I was trying to be polite, and all of a sudden, Donna’s mother verbally kicked my ass. 

"You sound like a lawyer, Ms. Russo." 

She smiles at me. "Donna hasn’t told you anything about me, has she." 

My throat is very dry all of a sudden. "Uh, I am beginning to think, no. She really hasn’t." 

"Josh, it’s nice to meet you. And, just for your knowledge, I kept my name because it’s of value to me. It reminds me of who I am at all times. I never falter in that. Enjoy the party. I’ll see you kids later." She kisses Donna on the cheek, and walks away. 

"I don’t know what the hell happened," I say under my breath. 

"You had to start with the last name," she says, shaking her head. "It’s like the curse. You’re the fourth man I’ve introduced to her that she’s done that to. And I can always see it coming, but it’s just... impossible to prevent. It’s like a train wreck." She shakes her head again, and grabs my arm. "Bar. Now." 

"She is truly the scariest woman ever." 

"Try being raised by her. An Absolut Vodka martini and a Manhattan." We stand at the bar, and she taps absentmindedly on my arm. 

"So I’m the fourth man? The rest were, what, boyfriends?" I try to ask this question nonchalantly; I’m sure I’m failing spectacularly. 

She doesn’t answer. She just gives me a lazy smile, and keeps tapping. 

"Donna, after that horrific experience, I’m going to drink myself into a stupor. Hope that’s okay with you." I grab her tapping hand, which she quickly slips from mine. 

"No, you can’t! You need to meet the rest of the family, I need to reconcile with my sister and then you can get as drunk as you want." She smiles at the bartender. 

What is with her flirting with men who give her alcohol? 

I put my hand on her back as we travel towards a table. Which is when I notice her dress. Backless. My hand on her back is touching her smooth flesh. Second time tonight, only now she’s wearing a dress. This sheer-but-not dress. It’s red, which is an amazing color on her. Why didn’t I realize that before? And doesn’t she have another backless red dress? She wore it when she went out with that guy. Maybe she has a whole fleet of backless red dresses, for the sole purpose of driving me insane. 

For whatever reason, she doesn’t squirm with my hand on her back. In fact, she seems to lean back into my hand. Which is okay with me. We approach a woman with curly black hair who is engrossed in conversation with an older man. 

Oh. 

"Chairman Ehrlich. How are you, sir?" He turns around, and smiles. 

"Josh. How are you doing?" He stops for a moment. "What are you doing-- oh. Hello, Donna. Lovely to see you. It just took me a minute to realize what Josh would be doing here. Not that it’s not nice to see you. Josh, have you met Katherine?" The woman with curly hair-- Katherine Ehrlich. 

She’s attractive. Gorgeous. I guess that’s not really the point. My interests are somewhere else, and she is definitely not interested in me. 

"I’m Josh Lyman. Nice to meet you," I shake her hand. 

She smiles cordially at me. I think, for a moment there, I may have been leering. 

I need more Vodka. 

Katherine kisses Donna on the cheek. "Why are you two so late?" she asks Donna. She almost sounds like she’s insinuating something. Which is fine. Whatever she’s thinking, she’s probably right. 

"Traffic," we answer at the same time. 

"Well that’s cute," Katherine comments. 

"Josh," the Chairman breaks in, "while I have you here, I wonder if we can talk about--" 

"Daddy, no business." 

He waves his glass. "Ten minutes." He steers me away from Donna and Katherine. 

Great. 

++++++ 

"Was that convincing enough? I guess it would’ve been inappropriate to say, ‘I already know you because Donna tells me every moronic thing you do.’ I opted for ignorance instead," she says, tapping on her glass. 

"You sounded fine," I answer, taking a sip of my drink. "It’s fine anyway. Don’t worry." 

"Don’t worry about what?" 

The booze is starting to get to my head. "Oh, you know, whatever. Where’s Isabella?" 

Kate looks around the room. She spots her intended across the room. I notice the look that’s in her eyes when she finally sees her. It’s calm and reassured. "Talking to your Aunt Mary." 

"Mmm." 

"So tell me. Were you and Josh really late? Or were you just doing it upstairs?" 

I choke, just a bit. How very, very cool of me. "No! He’s my boss." 

Kate smirks. "Isabella was my boss." 

"Well it’s completely different and Josh and I are not ‘doing it.’" You shouldn’t lie to your future sister-in-law. But technically, I did not lie. Doing it could refer to many things, perhaps crocheting. Josh and I were not crocheting. 

I think I’ve been drinking too much today. 

Kate takes the glass from my hand. "Go talk to your sister. She wants to talk to you." When she says that, I feel so fortunate to have her as a part of my family. She’s so sweet and has made Izzie so happy. I’m just so grateful to her. 

Which is why I rush quickly out of the room to throw up, as opposed to throwing up on her beautiful couture dress. 

++++++ 

"Donna, are you okay?" I can hear Josh’s voice from all the way inside the bathroom. 

Or he’s standing right behind me. 

"You can’t be in here. You’re a man," I remind him. 

"Yes, but Katherine said you were THROWING UP, so, you know, I was sort of concerned," he says sarcastically. 

"I’m fine," I say warily. After having depositing the contents of my stomach into the toilet, I feel much better. I flush, and try to get up. Josh has to help me, which is just too embarrassing. I stumble over to the mirror and stare into my sickly pale complexion. I open my bag immediately, hunting around for mints. I throw three into my mouth, and then turn to Josh. 

He’s standing there with his hands on his hips. I can’t tell if he’s angry or concerned. I’m not sure that I care. 

"Are you sick?" he asks. 

I nod. Then I shake my head. "I was sick. Then I threw up." 

"Because you drank too much." 

I take out lipstick from my bag. "Because of a lot of things. I didn’t eat enough today, I drank too much, yes, and the weather and the thing with Izzie... I’m fine though. You can probably wait outside." I stare at my lipstick. 

The door opens and shuts loudly. I look down. I’m not in the mood for her dramatics. 

"That’s fine, Donna. Show up late after too much sex with Josh -- Hi, Josh. Nice to meet you. Isabella Moss -- Be at my party for thirty seconds before almost VOMITING on my fiancee. Anything else you’d like to accomplish before the wedding tomorrow?" 

I rub my eyes, effectively smudging my eye make up. She stalks closer to me. Right behind me. We look at each other in the mirror. 

"Josh," she says, never taking her eyes off of me, "Ron wanted to finish the conversation about-- okay, obviously, I just want you to leave Donna and I alone for a second. No stupid story necessary, right?" 

He walks out slowly, very confused and overwhelmed. 

I put on my lipstick. 

"That’s the wrong shade," she denounces. "Don’t you have anything to say to me?" 

"Yes." I whirl around so I’m looking into her eyes. "First, hello. Lovely to see you. Hope you’re well, haven’t seen you in about a year. Next, this shade is fine. Third, Josh and I are not having sex, and even if we were, it’s none of your concern." I put my lipstick back into my bag, and start to walk out. 

"Where do you get off being so angry with me?" she yells. 

I don’t turn to look at her, instead choosing to focus on the attractive flowered wallpaper. "Izzie, you didn’t tell me you were getting married." 

"What? I sent you an invitation." 

I continue to look at the wall. "You didn’t tell me." I turn around, looking into her hurt eyes. "You didn’t call and say, ‘Ahhh! Kate and I are going to get married!’" 

She approaches me. "You wouldn’t have understood," she says softly. 

"What wouldn’t I understand?" 

"Donna, it’s complex." 

"Try me." 

"...you didn’t tell me you were sleeping with Josh!" 

"I am not--" 

"Oh, please, there might as well be cum stains all over your face." 

Sometimes, I miss my sister’s way of speaking. Not right now of course, but there are those moments... 

"We will talk about that later. Or, never. Whatever. But you did not explain to me why you didn’t just tell me--" 

"You won’t understand the fight Kate and I went through. That was a part of it. You want a marriage license, you can get one. But Katherine and I had to wait and... I don’t know. I wasn’t trying to exclude you," she says simply. She continues. "And you’re busy. You’re a busy girl. You work 22 hour days or whatever. I feel like when I call, I’m bothering you." 

"And I feel like when I call you, I’m bothering you." 

"Nope." 

"Well, nope for me, too. Don’t exclude me, Izzie." I take her hand in mine. 

What I like about my sister is that she explodes. You say hello, she screams, and then she becomes this quiet, introspective individual. It’s nice, it’s like an ocean tide. She pulls me into a hug, and I’m scared that we’re wrinkling each other’s dresses. She touches the back of my hair. 

"You got a haircut." 

"Yup, just the one." 

"Oh, Donnatella, that’s the absolute fucking worst joke..." 

I link my arm through hers. "I try." 

"So are we good?" she asks cautiously. 

"We’re getting there." We walk out of the bathroom and encounter Kate and Josh. They’re sitting together, waiting for us. It’s sweet. They don’t know each other, but they’ve seemed to settle into a conversation about Isabella and I. As we approach them, I hear something about the manic nature of Moss women. 

"Everything okay?" Kate asks diplomatically. Isabella and I nod. 

"Anything more to drink, Donna?" Josh asks. 

I smile at him, and take his arm to enter the restaurant. "That’s so funny. You are SO funny. When you meet my dad, maybe you can entertain him with humor in the same way you made my mom laugh." 

++++++ 

It’s not often that I see my father in a suit. He looks sweet and very pulled together. I would go as far as to say he looks dapper. 

When he sees me approaching with Josh, he breaks from his conversation and comes towards me. I kiss his cheek. 

"Hi Daddy." 

"Pumpkin, aren’t you cold?" He puts his hands on my shoulders and attempts to rub them into warmth for a moment. 

I shrug him away. "I am a bit, but it’s fine. Dad, this is Josh Lyman. Josh, this is--" I am startled by him pulling off his jacket and draping it around my shoulders. 

"Nice to meet you sir," he says, shaking my father’s hand. I am watching this exchange with a new feeling of... what? 

"Thanks, Josh," I say, still rather jostled by that show of chivalry. 

"Josh, I heard you made quite an impression on my wife." 

Josh tilts his head to the side, trying to drag up tact from somewhere in his brain. 

"He asked about her last name," I explain. 

My dad starts to laugh. "I’m sorry to hear that. I bet she tried to tackle you for that one." 

"Well, luckily, Donna was there to protect me, sir." He looks at me in this proprietary way that’s unsettling. Something I have to dissect at a more sober moment. 

"Please. Patrick. None of that ‘sir’ business. I don’t need to be impressed, Josh." My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and tries to tell me something by staring into my eyes. 

"Donnatella, you’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow. Let’s have a talk when you’re more up to it." He kisses my cheek, and shakes Josh’s hand again. "Nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, Ron wants to talk about fly fishing." Dad rolls his eyes and saunters off. 

"Patrick and Patricia." 

"Yeah." 

"Didn’t know that. Are they both called Pat?" 

"Nope. Patrick and Patricia." 

"They were angry for having such similar names, so they decided to pass on their aggression to Donnatella and Isabella." 

"You’re the only one who has a problem, Josh." 

"Leo said, and I quote, or... sort of quote, ‘What is wrong with Donna’s parents?’ He was referring to the names. You know, ‘cause they’re weird." 

I swat his arm. "Leo’s an ass." 

"You’re still drunk, otherwise you wouldn’t say that." 

"Probably right." 

"Hey, tell me something," he says, steering me to a table. We sit. "Am I auditioning for your parents?" 

I look through the menu. Lots of things that make me feel sick. "What do you mean?" I ask, distracted. 

"Do they think we’re dating?" 

My eyes freeze on Mocha Glazed Pan Seared Duck. I freeze because that sounds utterly retched, and because Josh thinks we’re dating. Or he thinks my parents think we’re dating, so now he’s wondering if we’re dating. Or... I’m still slightly drunk. 

"Are we dating?" I ask. 

"Nope." I decide that no food right now is a good idea. 

"Oh, okay. What should I order?" He steals my menu and begins to flip through. 

"Hey," I say, yanking it away. "You go from asking me if we’re dating to stealing my menu?" 

Josh contemplates it for a moment. "Yeah." 

I move the menu so we’re sharing. He begins to assess his options. "Mocha Glazed Pan Seared Duck. Hmm." 

++++++ 

"Mike’s Pastry." 

"Yeah." 

"Josh, this is not my hotel room." 

"I know." 

"It’s ten o’clock at night. I’m tired. You said, ‘let’s leave the party early so you can go to sleep.’ I’m not asleep, Josh. And I’m not hungry." 

"Lobstertails." 

"Lobsterta-- oh. Mike’s Pastry. So by lobstertail, you don’t mean... lobstertail. Okay." I push him in front of me as we go into the restaurant. The room is filled with college students and people not in evening wear, and I suddenly begin to feel self-conscious, as Josh and I don’t fit into either category. "Did you come here when you were in school?" I ask as we get in line. 

He nods. 

"What did you order?" 

"Whatever the girlfriend of the moment wanted." He gives me a little shove when we reach the register, and I take a moment to look at the long rows of pastries. I’m pretty sure I started salivating right then. 

"One of everything and I’m not your girlfriend," I mumble, leaning down to peer closely at the desserts. 

"Just order something." 

"You order something! I’m looking." 

"Okay, I’ll have a chocolate chip cannoli and she will have a lobstertail." 

I stand up, looking into his face as he grabs for his wallet. "Don’t order for me." 

"You told me to order! They’re closing soon. That’s what you were going to get anyway." 

"...I don’t see how that matters." But then I drop it, because I don’t really care. I watch them place the desserts into those white boxes, and I stare at them tying the boxes with string. The guy at the counter hands me the boxes, and I smile at him. At least he understands the dynamic of my relationship with Josh. He pays for food I didn’t order, and then I eat most of my food and his. 

We walk outside, and I suddenly feel like an idiot. "Why are we outside when we need to sit down and eat?" 

"Let’s walk." 

"To the hotel? It’s too far." 

He looks at me and I realize he wanted to make this sweet, rather date-esque gesture. And I’m attempting to kick it over. So I hand him his pastry box, and we start walking down the street. 

"I’ve never seen you eat cannoli," I remark. 

"It’s only good here." 

"You’re a cannoli snob." 

"Donna, eat your pastry." I open my box, which is tricky to do, and I almost drop this precious dessert. I get the box open, and toss it into a trashcan, turning back to the task at hand. 

I take a bite, and it’s just -- really, really good. "Mmm." 

He throws me a look. "I told you." 

We walk in silence for a bit. It occurs to me that he hasn’t lived in the area for more than twenty years, and I don’t know where we’re going. So we wander. 

"You never told me about your sister," he says. 

I sigh. "I already told you the basic outline of the story. She came out to me, I did some mild freaking out, and then I got over it because I love her." Another bite. Mmmm. 

"It’s just interesting. You two together. It’s bizarre. And then the rest of your family, all of you together..." 

"What are you saying?" 

"Not too sure." He finishes his cannoli, and there’s this little bit of powdered sugar on his lower lip. I stop him, and brush my fingers across his lip. When I put my hand down, his tongue runs over the spot where my fingers had just been. 

I continue walking. 

"It’s amazing how alike and different you are from your family. That’s the best way I can put it." 

"That was a horrible way of putting it." I go to take another bite when Josh grabs my arm and takes a bite of my precious lobstertail. He smiles gleefully, and looks way too satisfied with himself. 

I say nothing, because that’s really just the best way to deal with him. 

"So, Isabella came out, and then what." 

"You know, nice people don’t steal, Josh." Okay, so I’m going back on that saying nothing thing. 

"I’m nice." 

"Yeah. Okay." 

"Donna, I’m so nice and pleasant it’s nauseating." 

"Well, I’m pretty nauseated right now, but it has nothing to do with your niceness." 

"Why are you so cruel to me?" 

"Because you like it." He gives me a quick nod, and throws his arm around my shoulders. My upper body immediately stiffens, but I begin to relax as I talk. "Isabella didn’t speak to me for two months when I called her a not-so-nice word during an argument. I don’t think she entirely trusts me because -- well, because I’m straight. She thinks that I don’t understand, but of course I do. I can imagine being in a situation where you want to make that big, sweeping, dramatic gesture, and you just can’t. For a million reasons." I’m not sure how I opened up to him, but now I can’t stop. "Sometimes I feel like she cuts me out because she can. Because she can’t control other situations, but she can mess with me. And I guess I get tired of it. And we yell at each other, but nothing really changes." 

Suddenly I feel very sad. 

++++++ 

I don’t know why I do it, leaning in to kiss her. And the actual kissing -- I don’t know why I do that either. It’s just not something we do, kissing in the middle of the North End. Or in the middle of anywhere except a bedroom. The kiss is sweet. And her mouth tastes like butter cream, and I slide my tongue into her mouth to get a deeper taste. She hasn’t pulled away, and it feels so good until-- 

She pulls away. She shrugs my arm off of her shoulders, and throws away the rest of the lobstertail. 

"Don’t do that, Josh." She keeps walking, and she’s moved the pace of our moonlight stroll to a brisk walk. "We don’t... there are rules and we stick to them and that’s--" 

"There are no rules, and even if there were... Look, fuck the rules. We never talked about guidelines." 

"If we talked about guidelines, that would be breaking the rules," she hisses. 

"It was just a kiss! Something we’ve done a million times. Admittedly, not in the middle of the North End, but..." I trail off. 

She doesn’t say anything, she just keeps walking. "This is idiotic, it’s too far back to the hotel. Let’s get a cab," I say. 

Donna stops walking. "No, you wanted to walk. We should walk. And then maybe you can kiss me again." 

Why does that sound like a bad idea to her? But I’m scared of Donna right now, so I don’t say that. "Let’s get a cab. We’ll go to bed." 

"You and I will go to bed. Not we." 

"Right." I hail a cab, and we climb silently into the car. There’s this bizarre moment of quiet until the cab driver says, "Where are we going?" 

"Sorry. Four Seasons." 

Her eyes are glued to the window, but I’m not sure if she’s really looking. "You’re amazing," I tell her. 

"You mean that in a completely sarcastic way, don’t you." 

"Not completely sarcastic." She doesn’t even look at me to roll her eyes. I guess this is pretty bad. "You’re amazing because you feel so many things in the span of hours." 

"I apologize for, you know, having emotions," she spits out. "Forget our... thing. It’s done." 

"Because I kissed you?" I ask incredulously, perhaps at a top volume level. 

She finally looks at me. "Hey. Why don’t you call Leo and yell that to him?" 

I narrow my eyes at her. "Is that what you think is going to happen? That some people are going to get pissed off because we’re sleeping together?" 

"We’re not sleeping together." 

"Fine," I whisper. "Then people are going to be pissed off because I’m fucking my assistant." 

"Stop the cab." 

"Donna. I didn’t mean that." 

"Please pull over. Josh, that is not the problem. I don’t care that you said that, it’s what it is. What I don’t want to talk about is why you seem to think that there’s more involved." She gets out of the cab, and the driver looks back at me. 

"What did you do?" he asks. 

I shake my head. 

"You better go chase her." 

Yeah. I hand him money, hoping it’s enough, and get out of the cab as quickly as possible. 

++++++ 

"Donna." 

Why is he behind me? I wanted to walk back to the hotel in silence so I could think. 

He and I have slept together so many times. It usually happens when we need to escape for a bit. After the election. After the shutdown. After the thing with Cliff. 

And once when Josh was with Amy. It’s not something I’m proud of. But he came to me, wanting me. So I let him in. 

And when we laid there together -- after -- our bodies wound together, I found myself thinking new thoughts. His hand stroked the underside of my breast as we laid there quietly. It felt like something I could do every night for the rest of my life. 

That night was different. It wasn’t just about comfort. He wanted me. For the first time since this arrangement started up, it wasn’t about need. He had Amy, but he desired me. 

He left early the next morning, and never told her what happened. He hadn’t been faithful, but it didn’t matter because he would be from that point on. 

I shut away all thoughts of the two of us together. He had left me feeling betrayed, when I had thought this was the start of something new. 

I was wrong. 

"Donna, slow down, I’m getting too old." 

"You run every morning." 

"Not every morning, sometimes I just lay there, wondering what it might feel like to wake up with you." 

Oh, damnit. His admission startles me. We don’t speak like this to each other. 

"I’m sorry, but you can’t ever have that," I tell him quietly over my shoulder. 

"Why?" 

"That’s not how it works." 

"Why?" He finally makes me stop walking. 

"Because! I’m not going to get into this right now." I look up, and magically, we’ve reached the hotel. 

"You have to admit that’s weird," he says, staring up at the building. He looks at me. "We’ll go to your room and finish the conversation. But if we do, you’re going to have to say things other than, ‘we cannot discuss this.’" 

"Fine." We walk into the quiet lobby, and take the elevator up to my room. When we get there, I take his coat off and drape it across a chair. I kick off my heels and take my dress off. And I stand in front of him wearing only underwear. I lay my dress across his jacket. 

I walk over to him, and undo his tie. I start to unbutton his shirt before he falls out of a trance. 

"Are you serious? We need to talk. This is the problem, all this silence!" 

I stop unbuttoning his shirt, and I kneel on the floor. It’s good that the carpeting is so soft. I unbutton his pants, and steadily slide the zipper down. I take his belt off and pull his pants down. 

"Donna, this is not..." I pull his boxers down, and his erection is quite present. 

"Donna, don’t," he says faintly as I pull him into my mouth. His hands immediately go to the back my head, and stroke my hair. 

"Ahhhh," he groans. I stop for a moment, jarred by his voice. 

I back away from him. "I’ll stop." 

"Donna," he says simply. 

I look up at him. I sigh. Keeping eye contact, I take him into my hands, stroking his erection with my thumbs. And then I pull him back into my mouth and apply slow, sucking pressure to the tip. 

"Donna," he whispers. I can feel him hesitate. He’s broken the rules, and at this point I should get up and kick him out of my room. 

We continue anyway. 

++++++ 

Ugh. The worst. Hangover. Ever. I manage to move my head so I can see the clock. 11:49. The sunlight is hitting my eyes in the worst way. 

I roll over to avoid the sun. And find myself staring at Josh. "What are you doing here?" 

He’s only half-awake when he hears me. "I was... too tired." 

"That’s a lie," I say. Too much speaking is making my head hurt even worse. 

"Yeah." 

"What is--" 

"Remember our conversation last night? About how you and I can never just sleep in bed together? I broke another rule, and I’m feeling pretty good about it." He leans in to kiss me, and I duck away for several reasons. 

For one, if he kisses me, my rank hangover breath will probably kill him. Also, what more does he want from me? He wants to sleep -- just sleep -- with me AND kiss me good morning? There must be some boundaries. 

Also, I’m sure there’s another reason, but my brain is too fuzzy to really remember what we talked about last night. 

"We should get up," he says stiffly. 

I groan. "No. More bed." I look at him, and my eyes flick down to his bare chest. I move over so our hips are practically touching and I lay my head on his chest. I can feel him kiss the top of my head, and then rest his cheek there. 

If it weren’t for the nausea, the dizziness, and the pounding headache, this would feel lovely right now. 

++++++ 

I’m not exactly sure who put my phone on ring AND vibrate -- but I will kill her when she wakes up. My phone is like the wrath of God right now, and she sleeps through it. Amazing. I look at her, curled up into my side. She’s snoring really loudly, but otherwise this is a pleasant picture. 

I answer my phone. "Yeah." 

"Josh?" 

"Hey. Leo." As much as I don’t want to disturb her, I can’t have a conversation with Leo while I’m naked in bed with Donna. 

"You okay? You sound a little hoarse." 

After the ban on noise during sex was lifted, I may have worn out my voice. "I’m fine. What’s going on?" I pull on my boxers. 

"It’s nothing. I’m gonna fax you some numbers Joey gave me." 

"Does everything look okay?" I watch as Donna begins to stir. She sees me on the phone, and sits up on her elbows. Her hair is tangled and messy and she’s most definitely still naked... 

"...due to FEMA’s involvement in that Ohio thing." I have not been listening to Leo. She has this look in her eye, and... "It should be fine, I’m just going to have Margaret fax it over to you anyway. What hotel?" 

Donna stumbles when she gets out of bed. She walks towards me, still naked. So I can barely breathe, much less talk to Leo. 

"Hello? Josh, did I lose you." 

"No. I’m here." She puts her hands flat on my chest and studies my face. 

"Okay, what hotel?" 

She kisses my neck, and brushes past me into the bathroom. I turn and watch her walk. "Four... Seasons? I think?" 

"Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s called," Leo says sarcastically. "You okay? You seem a bit out of it. How’s Donna?" 

"She’s great." 

"Good to hear. See you Monday." He hangs up. 

"So," I raise my voice so she can hear me through the bathroom door. "Today, before the wedding? I’m thinking we just stay in bed." 

"No," she tells me, her voice muffled. "We’re going to do things." 

"What happened to ‘more bed’?" I lean my forehead against the door. "What kind of ‘things’ did you have in mind?" 

"I don’t know, Josh. Boston things." 

"We’re going to suck at baseball?" I ask. She opens the door, and I pitch forward into her. 

She backs up a little bit. "Hey, good morning, thanks for trying to knock me over." 

I put my arms around her waist. "Boston things?" I can feel her tense up, so I let go. Reluctantly. She’s wearing the robe that she took from my room. I put my hands to the belt, and look to her to see if I can untie it. Judging by her face, I am not allowed to do this either. "So you want to do Boston things... okay." 

++++++ 

"This is not a Boston thing," I say, looking around at my surroundings. "How did we end up on a beach? We’re, like, thirty minutes from the hotel." 

"You don’t like this?" He seemed so excited on the way here, I just thought it would be... nicer. 

"No... I do..." 

He takes my arm, dragging me closer to the water’s edge. "During college. I used to come here and think of you." 

"Joshua, you didn’t know me in college." 

"Well I didn’t know it was you I was thinking of," he says, looking up into the sky. 

"You’ve had too much fresh air." 

"Can I finish please? I’m attempting to say something charming to you," he replies, exasperated. Josh steps back. I don’t really like the direction this is going in. 

"Are you going to write it in an antiquated book about skiing?" 

"You loved that present," he says quietly, his eyes landing on my left shoulder. 

"Yes," I reply seriously. "I did." 

"Okay. So shut up for a minute. I would drive out here and think about my future; what I wanted it to look like. I knew I wanted to be in D.C., and--" 

"And the charm comes in where?" I interject. Because again, I’m scared about where this is heading. 

"I came out here to think about my future, but occasionally, other thoughts would sneak in. And I would think about you." His eyes stay fixed on the sand. 

"I was probably seven at the time," I say. 

"The idea of you. I didn’t know who you were, or how you looked or smelled, but there was the idea." 

"The idea?" I ask weakly. 

"You." He looks up at me, almost seeking permission to feel these emotions. 

"Did you make that up?" I ask drily. 

He leans in. "Will you just kiss me." He closes the distance between our mouths, and feel his lips press against mine. Even in this chaste kiss, I feel something that I don’t want to admit. 

"This was the first public beach in America," he says as he pulls away. He takes my arm, and pulls me farther down the beach. 

"It’s a dump, Josh." 

"It’s a beautiful day! The sun is shining, there is no inclement Massachusetts weather, there is a slight breeze... and you’re from Wisconsin, so what do you know from beaches?" 

We stop walking for a moment, and he kisses me. The combination of these kisses and my hangover are starting to make me a little lightheaded. "We should probably leave," I say reluctantly. 

"Yeah. Okay." We walk towards the road. 

"Wonderland, huh?" 

"Were you expecting Waikiki?" 

"I don’t think this area was aptly named... Maybe when you lived here it was nicer. When women wore bathing dresses and men had bowler hats." 

"Hey, what did I say about cracks about my age, Punky Brewster?" 

"I didn’t watch Punky Brewster. How do you know about Punky Brewster? You would’ve been--" 

"To try and protect my dwindling manhood that you are hellbent on destroying, I’d prefer not to answer that question." 

"It’s really okay that you’re a girl, Josh. I’m still going to like you. I may not have any respect for this manhood that you speak of, but--" 

"Now why would we want that to change?" He smiles at me. Dimples and all. 

I drop his hand, and fidget with the buttons on my coat. "Just in case I forget to say this later... thank you. It’s been an interesting weekend so far, so thank you." 

"Of course... you’re welcome." He looks at me for a second before kissing my cheek. "Thank you for not kicking me out of bed this morning." 

"Yeah, I’m not ready to get into that." 

"Okay." 

++++++ 

I’ve been ready to go for the past twenty minutes, so I just sit here and watch her rush around. 

Donna is in the middle of some thirty step ritual of beautification, and she still has awhile to go before finishing. Currently, she is dashing around in her dress, this blue dress that swirls when she walks and makes her look amazing. I tell her this. 

"Yeah, thanks, where’s my bag?" 

I sigh, leaning back in her bed. "Ow. I think I’m laying on it." 

++++++ 

"Donna, will you calm down? We’re early." 

"We’re not early," I remind him, handing him my cellphone. It’s a short distance to the church, but I want to make sure we’re there with enough time. 

I have something I need to do. 

He checks the time on my cellphone. "We’re early." He moves to hand me my phone, but I shake my head. 

"You hold it, I don’t have room in my bag." He stuffs it into his coat pocket, glaring at me. "What?" 

"Women. You all do this to me." 

I slow down just enough to glance at him, and throw him a look. "Women do not do this to you. You’re holding my phone because you are a gentleman." 

"Yes. I am." 

We arrive at the church to no photographers, no camera crews and no press. I link my arm through Josh’s. "And you were worried." 

"I don’t think I was alone in the worrying, thank you very much." 

The annex to the church is quiet, a deep contrast to the noise I can hear coming from the sanctuary. I look him over and nod. "Nice suit. It reminds me of your Joey Lucas suit." 

He reaches out and touches the thin strap of my dress. "This is my Donna Moss suit." Josh strokes my shoulder for a moment, then drops his hand. "You look beautiful." 

I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. 

Finally I manage, "You should sit. I want to find Izzie." He stands there looking at me for a moment, and I feel like he’s watching me breathe. He gives me a small smile, and turns to walk into the sanctuary. 

I look for someone who could tell me where my sister is, and I feel irritated that I don’t have this information. She’s my sister, it’s her wedding day, and I should know where she is. I ask a friend of Izzie’s, and she directs me to the staircase in the annex. I run down the stairs carefully; there’s no need to tear my very expensive new dress. At the bottom of the stairs I can hear my sister’s laugh. I walk to the door, and knock politely. 

"Yeahhh." I stick my head into the room. 

"Isabella," I say, but then my speech fails me from that point on. She looks stunning in her gown, this delicate creation of white satin draping in the most beautiful ways. She looks like she belongs on a Grecian urn. 

Isabella is on her cellphone, but she’s wrapping it up. "Yes, of course I am. I haven’t done this before... Yes you will. I’ll see you in a few minutes... Love you too." She puts her phone down. "It was Kate. I can’t believe we did that separation thing before the ceremony. But we’re talking on the phone so that may count as cheating... I really don’t know. You look great, Donna." 

I shake my head as tears start forming in my eyes. 

Izzie looks in the mirror, dabbing at the area around her eyes. "Is it smeared?" 

I nod, approaching her. I smooth out the make-up under her eyes, then step back to look at her. "You look great," I whisper. 

She shakes her head. "I’m so glad you’re here, Donna." I know I can’t hug her, I’d probably mess up the careful arrangement of her gown. I settle for giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

"I’m glad that I’m here, too. If you need anything, I’m going to be front row. So. I’m here for you." 

"You’re always here for me." 

I stare at the floor. "Sometimes I suck at being here for you--" 

"Hey," she interrupts, "Don’t think about that. I know when I have your support." 

I look up, and squeeze her hand. "Anyway. Front row. Anything happens, just nod to me and I’ll take care of it." 

"That sounded very mafia-esque." 

"And you know how I always strive for that." I kiss her on the cheek again, and look into her eyes. "I love you. And I’m happy for you." For the first time, that feels very true to say. 

I walk out, leaving her a moment alone before she walks upstairs to get married. 

++++++ 

My mom and dad have not always had the easiest time in their relationship. I can remember sitting with Izzie in the dark, pillows thrust over our ears as to block out the sounds of their fighting. I can’t imagine what it was like to be a full-time working mother or a stay at home father in the middle of Wisconsin -- well, I imagine it wasn’t easy. 

I watch them next to me as my sister marries the love of her life. My mother is an emotional wreck, which is rare for her. She’s smiling and sobbing at the same time. Daddy is sitting with one hand on her arm. When Isabella and Kate take their vows, Mom reaches this moment of calm as my father begins to tear. She looks into his eyes and then reaches out to pinch his nose. It’s a weird gesture, but I notice something I’ve only begun to realize recently: how much love is evident in the gaze my mother gives my father. I think I spent my life feeling grossed out by those looks my parents gave each other. 

How do two people get to a place where they say, ‘Yes. I want to be with you for the rest of my life’?" I wonder this as my parents hold hands and we listen to the minister pronounce Isabella and Katherine to be partners in life. 

For the first time since the service began, I look over to Josh. 

He’s watching my parents, too. 

++++++ 

"It’s like you’re purposely trying to break my foot," she complains. 

"I think you’re dancing with someone else; I’m like Fred Astaire." I’m holding her close to me and just hoping this is somewhat romantic. Instead, I’m bruising her. "Should I back up? We’re too close, I can just--" 

She pulls closer to me, if that’s possible. She leans her head against my shoulder as we dance, ironically, to "I Won’t Dance." 

"Your sister and your sister-in-law have bizarre music tastes," I murmur into her hair, which by the way, smells like peaches. 

"Eclectic," Donna corrects. 

"Whatever. When I hear an orchestra play Frank Sinatra, Melissa Etheridge and Sinead O’Connor all within the span of an hour, I call that bizarre." She mumbles something into my shoulder. 

"What?" 

She lifts her head of my shoulder, and looks into my eyes. "You can identify Melissa Etheridge and Sinead O’Connor songs?" 

I swallow. "I listen to the radio." I look over her shoulder and see Donna’s father watching us. "Your father is subtly glaring at me," I tell her. She looks over her shoulder. 

"He’s smiling." 

"He was grimacing," I reply, as she her presses her cheek against my shoulder. A night of dancing this close to her, our hips pressed together, has produced a rather specific response in my anatomy. 

I just want to take Donna upstairs to bed. 

"What were you thinking about during the ceremony?" she asks. 

I was thinking seriously about marriage. I’ve been to so many weddings over the years, they’ve all blended together. I have a feeling I will remember this one, though. This was the first wedding where I could actually consider marriage because I knew there was someone who I wanted to marry. "I’m sorry I went to Leo." 

"I know why you had to, Josh," she tells me, pulling her head off of my shoulder. 

I shake my head, looking over to Isabella and Kate. "No, I didn’t really have to. I was just overreacting." 

"You were trying to protect my family. Thank you." 

"Donna, I wanted to apologize for something, and you end up thanking me. Can’t you just let me be the bigger man... or... whatever?" 

"Sure. You’re the bigger man," she tells me, dropping her arms. Donna takes my hand and leads me off the dance floor, a note of danger in her eyes. As we leave, her father catches her arm. 

"Donnatella, you owe me a dance," he says, smiling at her. She takes her father’s hand as they walk onto the dance floor. 

"If you’re sitting here alone, perhaps you’d prefer to dance with me." I turn around to respond to Donna’s mother. 

"Actually, I might just grab a drink, sit this--" 

"Let’s dance, Josh." 

"Okay." 

++++++ 

"How are you, pumpkin?" 

"Dad." 

He holds me protectively with one arm and holds my hand as we dance. "Pumpkin is such a nice nickname." 

"Yes, it’s stunning. I got it by throwing up after eating too much one Thanksgiving." 

"Yes you did. It’s cute and whimsical. I believe Isabella had a rhyme." Dad smiles down at me, then dips me backwards a bit. "Are you dating Josh?" 

++++++ 

"No, Patricia, for the eightieth time, Donna and I are not dating." I’m wondering if I sound convincing. 

"Am I bothering you with this direct line of questioning, Josh?" 

Actually, yes. "Of course not. I just want to be clear that Donna and I--" 

"You don’t deserve her," she says softly. She isn’t trying to be rude, in fact she’s quite matter-of-fact when she tells me that I don’t deserve her daughter. "Donna is bright and ambitious, and dedicated. She has moments of flakiness and stupidity, but I think those are just family traits. You don’t deserve her." 

I am straining to say something that will not offend a woman who has just deeply offended me. She’s looking into my eyes and trying to tell me to fire her daughter, to release her from this torturous patriarchy that I daily subject her to. What can I say? 

"I don’t deserve her. I know that I don’t. She makes my life easier, while I probably make hers harder. And I agree that she is all those amazing traits which makes her an absolute asset to myself... and, uh, to this administration. And... and..." I’m trying to come up with more, to make her see why I am good for Donna and why Donna is not wasting her life with me. I’m not so sure there are reasons. 

"I like her," I tell Patricia, my voice lowering. "I like all of her quirks and the way that she challenges me. I like her, and she’s going to make decisions that you don’t condone, but that’s your problem." I put my face closer to hers and whisper, "I love her. I don’t deserve her, but I love her. That much I know." 

++++++ 

"So you don’t love him, you’re not dating him, most days you downright loathe him. Am I getting this all?" 

I nod. "And he was a Fulbright scholar." He looks at me, confused. "He’s cocky about his intelligence," I elaborate. 

My father takes this all in, and leans his head back for a moment. "Donnatella, where is your head?" 

"I don’t know, Dad, I wasn’t a Fulbright scholar." 

"You can’t date Josh because he’s an intelligent guy?" 

I look over at a horrendous pair of orange shoes. Who would do that? "No, that’s not what I was saying... Dad, are you trying to sell me to Josh?" 

"I want you to be happy," he says simply. "And Isabella seems to think you need to be cajoled." 

"Izzie doesn’t know what’s going on, Dad." 

"Baby, none of us know because you’re not telling us." 

"Dad. I will let you know when there is something to report." I watch Josh whisper something in my mother’s ear as he dances with her -- a bizarre sight. Mom freezes when Josh says whatever he says, but then she relaxes. A small smile pulls on her face. 

"Mom doesn’t like Josh. Every time we see him on C-SPAN or whatever, she calls him an arrogant son of a bitch." 

"Wouldn’t be the first time someone said that about him." 

"I just want you to be careful," he says as the song ends. "I want the best for you." Dad holds me in his arms for a moment, and I feel like I’m seven years old again. He kisses my forehead. "I’m not selling you to anyone. I like the guy." I take his arm as we walk towards our table, but he stops short and looks at me. "Your Uncle Ted sent me this ridiculous article about the President’s senior staff... is it true that someone mailed Josh your underwear?" 

++++++ 

"If they asked me, I could write a book..." 

"Hey, what floor are we staying on? I can’t remember. There’s something kind of odd about that." 

"...about the way you walk, and whisper, and look..." 

"Donna. Is it the 17th floor?" 

"I could write a preface on how we met, so the world would never forget..." 

"It’s 16th, I think." He presses the button, and the elevator doors snap closed. I continue to sing. 

"And the... hmm hmmm hmm hmm of the plot--" 

"Hey, Frank, can you keep it down?" 

"Is just to tell them that I love you a lot..." When I sing that line, he comes closer to where I’m leaning against the wall, and he sort of leans into me. "And the world discovers as my book ends, how to--" 

He leans over and crushes my mouth with a long kiss. I can feel myself relaxing, slumping against the wall. Josh puts his arms around me as the elevator dings open on our floor. 

The doors open, and my Aunt Mary and Uncle Mark stare at us. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and smile at them. "Hi," I say weakly. "My Aunt Mary and Uncle Mark. Mary, Mark, this is Josh Lyman." 

They continue to stare at us as we get out of the elevator and they get in. "Nice to... meet you," my aunt says. "We’re just going for a walk. Donna, this is your boss, right? Josh Lyman?" 

I give them a forced smile as the elevator doors close. "Goodnight," I call out as they disappear from view. I stare at the closed elevator doors for a moment. "She’s going to go right downstairs and tell my mother. See, that’s where the not being dignified plays in." 

Josh tugs on my hand. "Come on. Bedtime." We walk down the hall to our rooms, and he’s pulling me the whole way as I become worried. 

"Now I’m going to have to account for, you know, all these early bedtimes you’ve been instituting. ‘Where are Donna and Josh?’ ‘They went to bed early.’ ‘Oh, REALLY.’ I don’t want to go through this," I whine, swinging my purse so it gently knocks the wall every time I swing it. 

He takes the bag from my hand. "That’s enough fun for you." 

I take the key card I’m holding in my hand and insert it in the door. The light blinks green, and I open my door. "Goodnight, Josh," I say, and try to close my door except that someone’s body is blocking my way. Oh. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I’m going to bed. I’m tired." 

"Oh. Okay. Goodnight." He walks to the next door over, looking like a dejected little puppy. Oh, hell. 

I close my door and walk behind him. I can almost picture the little devious smile on his face. He reaches out and puts one arm around my waist as he attempts to open his door. I take this opportunity to kiss his ear and gently bite his earlobe. "I can’t... hmm... open doors, and I really can’t open doors when you do that," he says, his eyes closing. I take the key card and open the door for him as he stands there with his eyes still closed. 

"Come on, Josh, I don’t have all night," I tell him with mock impatience. I hold the door open for him as he saunters in, taking off his jacket. He turns to me and shuts the door. 

++++++ 

I turn off the lights Donna flicked on, preferring the little bit of moonlight that comes streaming through the windows. It hits her hair at the right angle, and for a moment I’m captivated by the beauty of this woman who I look at every day. She turns around and strides to the bed, but I catch her in my arms before she gets there. I run my hands down her shoulders and her upper arms. Donna leans back into me as my hands travel to her back, and I begin to unzip her dress slowly. 

"Josh," she whispers impatiently. I kiss her at the nape of her neck, and kiss her all the way down her back to where the zipper sits undone. On my knees, I peel the dress off of her shoulders where it falls to the floor. She turns around and looks down at me. She has this look of... I don’t know what. 

"Josh," she whispers again, with something different in her voice. More demanding. I kiss her stomach as I rise off of my knees, pulling her underwear off as I move. 

She stands here, completely bare to me. And then she shivers. 

"Are you cold? I’m sorry, it’s too cold in here, I can turn down the thermostat," I say, rushing over to the wall. She puts her hand on my shoulder. 

"Did it occur to you that it was a shiver of anticipation?" she asks. I drop my hand from the thermostat, and swivel around. 

"No it didn’t, but it certainly should have." I watch her as she unties my tie. "Are you cold? I mean, that was cute, with the anticipatory shiver thing, that was a nice one for my ego, but seriously. Are you cold?" 

She shakes her head as a bemused smile fills her face. "You’re unbelievable," she tells me as she unbuttons my dress shirt. 

"Donna, I haven’t even done anything yet, although I appreciate this vote of confidence." She raises an eyebrow as she untucks my shirt and pulls it off my body. 

"You’re unbelievable because there is a naked woman undressing you, and you’re worried about whether or not I’m cold. Which I’m not, by the way. However, I would like to emphasize naked, Josh." She pulls off my undershirt, and I wrap my arms around her. 

"You are cold," I say suspiciously. We walk toward the bed and she kisses my chin, which is sort of funny but adorable. I kiss her lips, then part them insistently with my tongue. We stand there for a moment, kissing, and I start to feel her hand on my chest traveling lower. Slowly. 

She takes off my belt quickly, and sits on the edge the bed, her face level with my zipper. She leans in and takes the zipper with her teeth, and pulls it down. When she looks at me, she seems rather pleased. 

I think I’m shivering now, too. 

Donna moves further back on the bed so that her head is resting on the pillow. "Lose the pants and come here," she orders in this strange, throaty voice. 

"’Kay." I do as she orders, quickly, almost injuring myself as I trip over my boxers. "I’m okay. Fully operating. Nothing’s sprained." I crawl on the bed and lay down next to her. 

"Yet," she says mischievously, running her fingers down my hip and up my upper thigh. 

"So what’s next?" I ask. 

"We go to sleep, and we definitely don’t have sex." 

"Okay." I lean in and kiss her, pulling her body close to me. I wrap one arm around her waist while the other one strokes her back. Her hands go to my erection, softly stroking me and distracting me. She rolls over so she’s on her back, and pulls me on top of her. I adjust slightly so I can be inside of her, when something occurs to me. "Hey. Don’t we need..." 

"What," she mumbles exasperated, her lips kissing my left nipple. 

"Stop. Don’t we need a condom?" 

She looks at me like I’m crazy. "I’m on the Pill. I’ve been on the Pill forever. We had sex last night and you didn’t ask me that. You never ask me that." She squints at me. "What’s wrong with you?" 

"Nothing," I respond, kissing down her neck, and taking her breasts into my hands. I put my mouth on her left nipple, licking it, rolling it around with my tongue. 

"No, really, Josh... ohhh... Josh, what’s... ohhh. Josh, stop. Why did you ask me?" 

"Kinda busy right now," I reply, my mouth staying on her nipple. Donna pulls my head off of her breast and holds my face in her hands. 

"Why did you ask me if we needed a condom?" She looks confused, and frankly, so am I. 

I shrug, rolling onto my back. I run a hand through my hair, and close my eyes. "I don’t know. Force of habit." 

"Force of habit?" she asks sharply. 

My eyes shut tighter. That’s not what I meant. "That’s not what I meant, Donna." I open one eye, and she’s staring at me, the sheet drawn tightly across her body. Damn. 

"Who are you asking for condoms?" 

"Don’t you mean whom?" 

"It’s like you never want to have sex with me again," she responds. "’Whom.’ You’re an idiot." 

I throw a pillow under my head and get comfortable. This may take awhile. "Yeah. I know that." 

She lays her head on my pillow, looking up at the ceiling. "So what did you mean by ‘force of habit’?" 

I turn my head so I’m looking at the side of her face. "Can’t we just have sex?" I ask. 

"No. Tell me what you meant." 

I rub circles on her stomach as I think of what to say. I’m not sure why I said it or what I meant. I just know that I want to stop talking about it immediately. "I didn’t mean to say force of habit. The last time I had to ask someone if we needed a condom was--" 

"Josh, so help me, I don’t want to know." But she does. I know it. 

"Okay. If I had to pinpoint a reason why I just asked -- and I have to pinpoint something or you’ll probably beat the crap out of me -- it’s because it’s different between us now. It feels new, and fresh, and... I’m an idiot, but we’ve already been through that." I smooth hair away from her face as I wait for her to respond. 

"So I’m thinking that was... sort of cute," she finally says. "I’m not thrilled that you’ve forgotten all the times we’ve been together, but--" 

"I didn’t forget, Donna." 

"I know," she says softly. 

"I didn’t forget." I find her hand and lace our fingers together. 

"Maybe we can have sex now." 

"Maybe?" She yanks on my arm, pulling me on top of her. 

"If this is our first time, you better make it memorable," she tells me. 

"Well, I intend to," I respond, kissing down her neck until I reach her breasts. I pull her right nipple into my mouth and start tracing it with my tongue. 

"So you didn’t mean force of habit." I sigh, laying my head on her chest. 

"No. I didn’t. Donna, if you and I aren’t using condoms, then I’m not asking anyone for them. End of story." My head falls as I kiss down her stomach, my thumb finding her clit. I can hear her relaxing as happy sighs leave her mouth. I revel in the sounds she’s making, but it only lasts a moment. 

"So you and Amy used condoms." 

I jerk away from her, retreating to my side of the bed. I lay on my back. "Donna, I don’t want to..." Without realizing it, I’ve managed to bring the sheet with me, so she’s laying there naked, completely bare to me. I’m not sure whether to maintain my anger or give in to feeling turned on. 

"I’m just asking," she replies evenly. She doesn’t move. I’m looking at her face and trying to figure out where all this animosity is coming from. 

"Yes, we did. Is that what you want to hear?" 

"I don’t want to talk about her, Josh." 

I sit up, frustrated. "Then why did you bring her up?" 

She sits up, her breasts swaying gently as she does this. "Were you thinking of her just then, when you asked me if we needed a condom? Were you thinking of Amy?" She stops, and leans her head back. "Are you always thinking of Amy?" Donna brings her head up, and stares at me. I’m speechless. "Well. That’s good. I’m glad we’re finally talking during sex. It’s helpful." She starts to get off the bed, but I grab her hand and pull her back. She stares at me, wide eyed. 

I stare into her eyes. "When I yelled out your name last night, over and over again, I was only thinking of you. I think about you when I’m with you, and when I’m not, and..." I stop to kiss her, hoping that I’m reassuring her. 

She pulls away from me for a moment. Donna looks at me in this appraising way that’s sort of off-putting. I move to touch her but she grabs my hand instead and continues to stare at me. "Okay," she finally accepts. 

"Really?" 

"Yes," she replies, kissing me. 

I stop her, just for a moment. "Just to be clear, I didn’t think of her at all tonight. Even when you were talking about her, I was only half-listening." 

"Thank you, Josh," she says sarcastically. She pulls me on top of her for what feels like the 32nd time this evening. 

"And notice I’m saying her. Her. Not that A-word. This is my commitment to you." Donna adjusts her hips underneath me, kissing my collarbone. 

"That’s great, Josh. Now maybe you want to be quiet and concentrate," she says, guiding me inside of her. I sigh. The feeling of being inside of Donna is so intoxicating. I put one hand to her breast while the other locates her clit. 

"Ohhh, Josh," she whispers, my hand grasping her breast as I thrust into her, slowly at first. 

"Donna," I gasp, as she tightens her muscles around me. Her legs are attempting to crush me, and I shift just a bit so she can wrap her legs around my torso. I keep thrusting, in and out, my fingers frenzied on her clit, until I feel her tense up completely and she yells my name. Her voice sends me over the edge as I climax, my orgasm feeling like an implosion. I collapse on her as she traces patterns on my back. My face is tucked between her chin and shoulder. 

I feel hot and cold and calm and a thousand other adjectives that I can barely describe. 

"I love you," I whisper. 

++++++ 

I feel him pull out of me and kiss my neck. I can feel him laying down behind me, his arms holding my waist. 

But I’m not really there. I can’t really feel it. 

His breath on my neck is steady but I can tell he’s nervous about what he just said. Josh puts his chin on my shoulder, so his mouth is level with my ear. "Donna, I--" 

"Please don’t say it again," I say softly. His arms loosen around my waist. 

"What?" 

"Just... just don’t use that word." I pull away from his embrace slowly, keeping my back to him. I can feel him shifting on the bed, confused. 

"Did you just order me to not say ‘I love you?’" 

"Josh," I say, getting out of bed. I pick the duvet off the floor and wrap it around me like armor. I throw myself on the chair by the window, and look out over the Public Gardens. He moves to the end of the bed so he’s closer to me, something I don’t want right now. Josh sits on the edge of the bed, and touches me through the duvet. "Don’t say that. You’re only saying that in light of what we just did." I shiver. 

He looks at me strangely. "That’s not... true. Donna, I love you. I’m not entirely sure I meant to say it like that, but... I love you. I always have." He leans in, and I’m not quite sure what he wants from me. 

"You haven’t always loved me," I mutter, staring out the window. I can’t look at him right now. 

He cocks his head to the side. "When you tell a woman you love them, they’re not supposed to argue semantics with you." He’s not taking me seriously. "Okay, when I didn’t know you I didn’t love you, but all the rest of the time--" 

"Really. You loved me when you were sleeping with Amy?" 

"Donna, it wasn’t just--" 

"You loved Amy." And once I say that, I have this freedom in my chest that makes me feel absolutely horrible. 

He leans back, his hands dragging across his thighs. He takes a long time to speak, and his words come out, careful and deliberate. "I could lie to you, and make you feel better. But I can’t do that. I was in love with Amy. I felt something for her that I could identify. Because I felt it with you." 

"Now there’s two things you can’t say." 

He throws himself back on the bed, mumbling something I can barely make out. After a minute he sits up again. "It’s not fair that I love a lunatic. Donna, don’t throw this crap at me. You’ve been, you know, out there. With men." His face contorts at the thought of other men. "You haven’t been some virginal maiden just waiting around--" 

"You can’t expect me to be content with this ‘I was in love with Amy’ but ‘I love you now’ crap!" My voice drops to a fierce whisper. "And don’t try to make me feel guilty for the choices that I’ve made. One of the benefits of not being your property is that I get to make my own decisions." 

"What about when those decisions included Jack?" he asks angrily. "Knowing that you didn’t want me because of that... I can’t believe you let him hurt you." 

"Yes, Josh, you’re superior, you’ve NEVER hurt me." She pauses, "Do you even know when I’m hurt?" 

He sighs, his chin dropping to his chest. "Look, what I’m saying is that you and I have had... things with other people. But we always come back to each other," he says, his face flushed when he lifts it. "We love each other." I stare down at the duvet. 

"Maybe," I reply, "But I dislike you in ways I probably shouldn’t." 

"You dislike me?" 

I nod, but then I shake my head, squeezing my eyes closed. "You’ve done some unforgivable things to me." 

When he looks up at me, his face is blank. "Donna, I don’t--" 

"You slept with me when you were still with Amy." 

"Why do you keep talking about her?!" 

"Because we never talked about her! And now that you’ve decided we’re going to talk about us, I’m actually going to do it." I feel like I’m exploding, breaking into tiny pieces. I fight the urge to weep, and cling to anger instead. "Do you think it was easy, Josh, to watch you with her?" I get out of my chair, and start to walk around the room. "It was just months of taking her phone calls and watching you go off to lunches with her and coming back late and lipstick on your collar and... feeling like I didn’t exist. You slept with me with every intention of going back to her." The silence in the room is only marred by the buzz of the air conditioner. 

"Donna--" 

"You FUCKED ME and then you went back to her," I yell, standing in front of him. "I thought that you coming to me was a sign of something serious but then..." I trail off, sitting on the other side of the bed. "When I think about her, and then what you just said to me... I can’t trust you." 

"You don’t trust me?" 

I close my eyes. "Not with my heart." 

"But you love me." 

I can’t say anything, I just... can’t. Josh comes over to where I’m sitting and unwraps the duvet, just a little. He pulls himself inside, and closes us in together. "Don’t touch me," I tell him stiffly. And he doesn’t, but we’re in this duvet cocoon, and his thigh is lightly grazing mine. 

"I went to your apartment that night because I wanted to be with you. But, things got complicated," he says, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Donna, how can I... how can I make you feel better?" 

"You can start by getting the hell away from me," I say harshly. He looks taken aback and hurt, but I just can’t care. 

"I don’t want to do that," he whispers. I move a fraction of an inch closer to him. 

"Tell me... why her?" My eyes fix on the striped wallpaper. "Why not me." Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his face. He looks upset, but then his expression grows steely. 

"The first time I kissed Amy, I called you. I told you all about it, which in retrospect was heartless, but let me continue. I called you because you’re my best friend, and I tell you everything. And I told you because you’d be jealous. And you were." 

"I’m wondering," I say slowly, "Is this the part that’s supposed to make me feel better?" 

"Amy once asked if I was dating you, and I said no, because you were my assistant. Of course, that was back when we had an election to win, but now we have two years left in office so I’m feeling pretty lawless." He looks at my glare, and continues. "Anyway. Amy is not my assistant, and she was into me, so we started dating. And yes, I cared for her. But she’s not you." 

I slide my face forward so our foreheads rest against each other. "What’s so good about me. Amy Gardner’s a good catch." 

"Every single thing about you," he says, "is good. Well, except being from Wisconsin. That’s pretty weak." And then he kisses me. Against better judgment, I don’t push him away. When I pull away from his kiss, he surprises me by continuing. "You’re just... nice. And caring and compassionate. And that’s what I can name. Most of what I love about you can’t be verbalized, it’s just this mass of..." He tries to find a word, and he comes up with "...stuff." 

I raise my eyebrow, a small smile forming on my lips. "Stuff." 

"SAT prep is starting to fade fast." He kisses me. 

"So you’re feeling lawless?" I ask. 

"Right now I do," he replies. I lay my head on his shoulder. "She was a chapter in my life that you had to witness. It’s over, though. You’re... my epilogue." 

I pick my head up. I’m not quite done with him yet, so he should just save his cute little remarks for when I’m finished. "You explained, in lengthy detail, the amazing kiss you had with her." 

He presses his forehead to mine. "Yeah. Sorry about that." 

"Did you tell anyone about our first kiss?" 

"Who would I tell? You were there." 

"You could have told Sam or Toby or CJ... no, you could not have done that. Okay." He takes my hand in his, and kisses the palm of my hand. 

"Our first kiss was great, although I think the real magic was found in the second, third and fourth kisses. But that’s just my opinion." 

I crawl out of the duvet, and pat the spot next to me on the bed. He joins me, spreading the blanket across our bodies. "You know what? I remember the third kiss. That was spectacular." 

He sighs, "Yes. It was." He turns to me, laying on his side. "Let’s have a new first kiss. This will be the one I’ll tell people about. CJ will put it in a press briefing tomorrow." 

"Sounds like a good idea," I tell him, turning on to my side. I kiss him softly, hesitantly, as if I’m feeling his lips for the first time. My hips press against his, and my legs tangle with his legs. His mouth opens, just slightly, and I slip my tongue into his mouth. His tongue -- that wondrous tongue with multiple uses -- meets mine, and we stay like this, kissing, for at least ten minutes. If it weren’t for this silly thing of needing air, our kiss could have lasted longer. We separate, breathing heavily. "In other news, Donna Moss and Josh Lyman shared a wonderful, ten minute kiss. That’s a full lid." 

"I love it when you play Press Secretary," he breathes into my ear. 

I laugh. "Everyone loves when you play Press Secretary." 

"Don’t start with me, Donna." 

"It’s okay, Josh, I think everyone has forgotten it by now," I say, bursting into a fit of giggles. No one has forgotten. "I think it’s sweet that you can’t do a briefing." 

"I can definitely do a briefing." 

"No, Josh, you definitely can’t. You know, I think I would be a good Press Secretary." 

"Yeah. I’ll fire CJ. Let’s make you the White House Press Secretary." 

I snuggle into his side. "Okay," I say with a yawn. He puts his arm around me, and strokes my back. 

"So do you want to hear about my kiss with you? It was really quite magnificent. I was one of the key players in this kiss, and I did my part to bring the magic. I had you panting." 

"There was no panting," I say, burying my face in his arm. Okay, maybe there was a little panting. 

"I didn’t finish telling you about this kiss." 

"That’s okay, I’ll hear about it during CJ’s briefing tomorrow." 

Josh leans in, and kisses my shoulder. "I love you." 

I turn away. "Okay, still not ready for that." 

"You know, most women like to hear men say ‘I love you,’" he says sleepily. 

I sit up, sort of, and face him. "Do you really want to talk about other women again, Josh?" He looks at me, horrified, and shakes his head no. "Why do you have to say it?" 

Josh looks at me like I’m trying to wound him. Maybe I am. "I feel it. So... I’m gonna say it." 

"You don’t know what love is," I say. I stare at the scars on his chest, and my eyes close involuntarily. 

"Donna, I know what I feel. I know that I need you, and I--" 

"Love is sitting at someone’s bedside for a week as they drift in and out of consciousness," I say bitterly. "I almost lost you, and..." I hold my hands over my eyes. "When you experience that, you let me know and then we’ll talk about what love feels like." He reaches out to touch my hair, and smoothes it off of my face. "That’s love, Josh. And it hurt and it was painful, and I don’t need words to explain how I feel." 

We’re quiet for a moment, and Josh reaches out and touches my leg through the sheet. "That’s not the only way to love someone." 

"I know," I say quietly. "I just... needed to tell you that." 

"So I went to my lawyer last week to change my power of attorney documents over to you." 

I look up, shocked. "Why didn’t you tell me?" 

"I was waiting for the worst possible moment to tell you," he says with a small smile. "And I found it, surprise." 

"I’m flattered, Josh, but power of attorney should really be held by a family member. I don’t know if I would know--" 

"You’re my family." 

"Oh," I reply intelligently. I really don’t know what to say. 

"You’re going to have some papers to sign when we get back home." I’m not sure what exactly about this statement makes me cry, but it does. And I cry for a minute, and Josh puts his arm around me. And it feels nice for him to hold me. We situate ourselves in bed, but then I get up and I throw on Josh’s t-shirt, because in actuality, I’ve been sort of cold this entire time. So we curl up in bed, and almost immediately, Josh falls asleep. 

Before he drifts off, he whispers, "Are we okay?" 

I can’t answer him because I don’t know, and what I do know is difficult to vocalize. 

I’m not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow morning. I could wake up alone in this bed, although I doubt it. I’m scared of what I don’t know, and those are things that terrify me. 

But I do know that Josh loves me enough to say so, that his Harvard t-shirt is soft from hundreds of washings, and that I’m his epilogue, and it’s very possible that he’s mine. 

THE END. 

i had a soundtrack in my head while writing this little fic, so i share it with you now. "i will arrive" by melissa ferrick is a song that helped me write this story. another is ani difranco’s "falling is like this"; the title of this fic is directly stolen from the lyrics of that lil diddy. i also used "i could write a book," music by richard rodgers and lyrics by lorenz hart. 


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